Love Is The Deepest Cut Of All or Pain and Razors
by angel of music guide me
Summary: Continued from the ideas set in Pain and Razors by Monkeybitmytail. Warning: Contains Selfharm material which may be of a sensitive nature, hence the rating. What happens when House sees a different side to Allison Cameron?
1. Chapter 1

Author Note:- This was a story idea continued by me with permission from the author of Pain and razors by monkeybitmytail.

Be warned, as I said in the summary this may be sensitive material. It's not often that you are able to see yourself reflected in a TV character….. Anyways…

Disclaimer:- I do not own House etc…

Rating:- In England this material would probably be a 15 rating, but I'm going to go M as suggested by a previous reviewer on the original story.

P.S:- character thoughts are in _Italics_

It was the only way she had found to cope. As she drew the blade across her pale skin she winced, feeling the sting as the knife broke the skin. She released the breath that she had been holding and savoured the pain coming from her leg. _This is for not being perfect. _She lowered the knife to her leg again and repeated the ritual that took away her pain. _This is for being a coward. No wonder he doesn't want to be anywhere near you. You are worthless to him and everybody else. Remember, he said he doesn't even like you…_

Allison Cameron always managed to put on an act for work, no one would ever expect this behaviour from a doctor. They always saw her as perfect, as always agreeing with her boss and wanting to be helpful. The real Cameron regarded herself with bitterness. _At least they don't know the real you. They can never know. Especially him. _Even her minds treacherous mention of House prompted the knife to lower once again to her leg. T_his is because he doesn't want you. Will never love you. Hates you. _By now the tears were flowing freely down her cheeks and she was shaking. She looked out of the window from where she was sitting. _Rain. Great. _Suddenly movement from just outside the window caught her attention. Somebody had been watching her, and what was worse she had thought that she recognised the face.

Shocked she got up. Hoping that it was just a hallucination brought on by the pain she crossed to the window and drew the curtains.

When she finally decided to open the curtains she saw no-one except her reflection. In a movement half of relief and half of longing she rested her warm forehead against the cool surface.

House lifted his forehead from the cool surface of his corvette. He was aware of the pain radiating in his thigh but resisted the urge to take any Vicodin. Maybe he had taken enough, he was seeing things. Or maybe it was all real. The blood had seemed real enough. The knife….

Looking back at her window he could see her dark head resting on the window, and then move away head bowed, hair covering her face. This wasn't right….This wasn't….. Cameron… His hand was now resting on the handle of his car, but his hand wasn't responsive. He couldn't seem to open the damn door. Lifting his hand and flexing his fingers it was obvious that there was nothing wrong physically, it must be in his mind. House knew that there was only one thing left for him to do and he found himself walking back up the stairs towards Cameron's apartment, ignoring the stabbing pains the movements caused him.

Cameron was at her bathroom sink with a damp towel, the cutting hadn't given her the release it usually did and even though the cuts were bleeding more than usual her problems were still at the top of her mind. By the time she had cleaned the cuts and taken the time to change into a pair if sweat pants and a shirt she was feeling calmer. There was a knock at the door.

She knew who it was even before she opened the door. _Damn he had been watching her_. Nausea swept through her body and tears burned under her tightly closed eyelids._ Maybe he'll just give up and go away _she thought as she leant back against the door. No such luck.

House hammered harder. "Cameron open up. I know you're there I can hear you breathing!"

_Damn_. Cameron silently cursed her respiratory system for giving her away. House knocked again. "Cameron open the door!" This was a voice of anger mixed with concern; there was no trace of the usual sarcastic overtones that laced his voice every day. "Open the damn door Cameron!" a pause and then something she had never heard before "Please" This last simple word shocked Cameron back into reality. The word itself, though unusual from House's mouth, was tinged with sadness…longing almost.

The door opened slowly in House's face, and his expression of relief quickly turned to anger, and then became impossible to read.

Cameron broke the silence making sure the tone of her voice didn't betray her true feelings.

"Erm House, do you know what time it is" Maybe she sounded too happy…Better tone it down.

"Yes I do" His voice sounded old. Tired.

"Soooo, why are you here? We have to be at work in four hours. I'm tired so I'm just going to go to bed…."

She shut the door. At least she tried to shut the door, but some thing stopped it. A cane. House's cane.

"House, your cane is in the way" She couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes. She knew what she would see there. Anger. Sadness. Pity.

"Cameron. Let me come in" his voice held a slight tremor.

"I don't think that's a good idea, I'm tired, you're tired. I'll see you in the morning"

This time it was his hand against the door that prevented it from closing.

"Please Cameron." He drew a breath. "My leg really hurts" It wasn't really a lie. His leg was really hurting him. The cold weather and the steps were having a joint effect on his already temperamental muscles. Yet he still hadn't taken any of his Vicodin. He couldn't remember the last time he hadn't wanted to take a pill to get rid of the pain.

Cameron weighed up the situation. _Maybe his leg is really hurting him. He should sit down for a few minutes. Have a hot drink, he's wet. Been out there for a while._

She opened the door and let him in.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter break

He moved through the door careful to avoid eye contact. To admit that he was feeling pain broke him slightly. Especially admitting it to someone he worked with. _No not just somebody you work with_, his mind objected. _Admitting it to Cameron hurt more_.

"Would you like a drink? You look cold." _That was okay,_ she thought to herself. _Simple question_, _simple answer_.

"Please. Coffee." His voice was bland. Almost completely devoid of any emotion. This worried her.

"So what brings you out here at this time of night? Just out for a drive? Spying?" _Damn had she said that out loud_. His face gave her the answer she needed.

The kettle signalled that it was ready. _Perfect timing _she thought as she moved away.

"Dammit Cameron, you know I saw you. What are you playing at!"

House had jumped to his feet and yelled instantly regretting the movement. His face blanched and pinpricks of sweat beaded his forehead. His vision was tunnelling and all he could see was white light. _Ohh crap. This isn't good. _Nausea swept through him and he gasped. Instantly Cameron was by his side holding him up. No he was sitting down. They both were. House could feel Camerons hand in his jacket pocket.

"Whadreyu doin?" He knew he wasn't speaking clearly. It sounded like he had his mouth full.

"Looking for your Vicodin" _Damn where is it… Ah here.._ "One or two?"

"Two" House tried to move his hand but the small movement caused his head to spin and the feeling of sickness return. _No wait, this time it's for real_. He gulped for air.

Cameron grabbed the wastepaper basket and held it in front of him, as he emptied the meagre contents of his stomach. They had had a hard day, eating hadn't been top of his priorities.

"Here. Open your mouth" Cameron placed the pills into his mouth and held a glass up to his dry lips. He drank. _Water. Cold. Good_. The last thought he had before passing out was that Cameron was still next to him, one hand on his back, another on his good leg, and he felt her leaning back with him until his head touched the arm of the chair. Then, nothing.

House awoke to find himself lying flat upon the couch. Not his couch. As he tried to recall where he was he heard someone breathing in the room. He looked around, but saw nothing but as he looked down he could see Cameron lying on the hardwood floor next to the couch, with not even a pillow or a blanket.

Seeing her lying there tore at House. Not only had she taken care of him last night from what he could remember, but she had stayed with him while he was in pain. _Not like Stacy._

"Cameron" he spoke softly so as not to shock her, and giving her a slight shake of the shoulder. He got no response.

"Cameron…..Allison!" The use of her first name did the trick as she woke, startled. She groaned, as her muscles got their revenge on her for the night's abuse.

"House?" She spoke groggily still half asleep

"Yes I'm here…Why don't you go to bed, and I'll wake you for breakfast. Get some decent sleep. In a bed preferably. You know doctors lie about how sleeping on hardwood can be good for you."

She rose as if sleepwalking and walked dizzily into her bedroom. By the lack of sound coming from her room House assumed that she had found her way into bed and was now sleeping soundly. This meant that he could continue to sleep safe in the knowledge that she was comfortable. Wrong. It bothered him that he cared if she was comfortable or not, it was her own fault if she slept on the floor. It's not as if I care for her. She could have been in pain if she slept like that. I was treating her like I would treat a patient. Okay, I treated her how Wilson would treat a patient…Wilson. He needed to phone Wilson. Where did Cameron keep her phone? He caught sight of it from across the room, and using his cane more than usual, he limped his way across to it being careful not to make too much noise.

He dialled the number he knew by heart and waited for Wilson to pick up.

"Hello?" It was a woman's voice. Damn. Julie. "House is that you! James get up. Your boyfriend is on the phone" House cringed.

"What's up? Its 4am!" Wilson's voice was groggy and House gained a perverted sense of pleasure from this.

"Wilson…I have a problem….."

"This problem wouldn't begin with C would it?" House was silent, he could almost hear Wilson's smirk across the line.

"Sort of. You see I'm at her place…."

"What?" Wilson's voice held n edge of shocked disbelief as he moved out of Julies hearing range.

"Nothing like that, I assure you…Its just I needed to talk to her, then I kinda passed out…"

"What! Greg are you okay? What happened? Do you need me to come and pick you up?"

House smiled at his friends over the top concern. Wilson worried to much about him. He wasn't really worth it.

"Yeah I could do with a ride at about 9. My leg isn't too hot at the moment…" He trailed off. Wilson didn't probe further simply saying "Sure see you at nine then.."

He hung up.

House's curiosity was starting to get the better of him, and as he snooped around Cameron's apartment for any potential clues as to her psyche he heard a whimper coming from the next room.

As he neared the door it became clear to House that she wasn't awake. Instead she was mumbling in her sleep, and it was with such sadness in her voice that she whispered. Coming closer House sat on the corner of the bed making sure not to disturb her, and he listened.

"I can't…..I can't go through it again…………..I can't lose another person……I can't cope anymore" Her whisperings were urgent. As if she was having a conversation with herself and wanted to be heard.

"House……I need to go……………I cant stay here any more…………..I cant stand you not wanting me………….I've lost you too………………I'll hurt you too…….I can't………….."Her voice drifted off once more and House was alone with his thoughts again, knowing for sure that she was more damaged than he had previously thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Cameron woke up with a dry mouth and a headache. This was unusual. Even more unusual however was the fact that she was on the floor of her bedroom; not where she had eventually fallen asleep. She vaguely remembered the odd night she had had, but was still uncertain as to whether it had been a bad dream. She groaned as she got up from the floor, and realised that blood had soaked through the trouser leg and had dried to her skin. _Great. _If that part had actually happened then _oh God…._ That was all she needed- to show her boss that she was emotionally incompetent, as well as just damaged.

As she walked out of her room and into the main living area of her tiny apartment she was aware of its emptiness. House wasn't there. _Probably ran away. Just as well I guess…_Looking up at the clock on the wall she was aware that she should be in work in around ten minutes. Just as well she didn't live too far from the hospital; she could be there in twenty….


	4. Chapter 4

Thankyou to those who have reviewed, it was much appreciated. The next two chapters are character POV's so that accounts for the slightly different style and shorter length.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He doesn't know why he called Wilson, the man just wont shut up. He may be his best friend- his only friend to tell the truth- but sometimes he would rather be alone. Wilson is a good friend. In time he shuts up when he realises that House is thinking. A good friend. A. Good. Friend. If he breaks the words up it drives the point home. He needs a friend sometimes.

Wilson pulls up outside houses apartment. He says something which he knows house won't hear. Wilson recognises this mood House is in. Wilson is a good friend. He drives off, and House breathes again. No questions. He unlocks the door and hobbles in. He hates the word hobbles. It is awkward, reminds him of hobbits. He hated the film. The books hurt his wrists. No hobbits. He limped. Too medical but will do for today. His couch is inviting him in and he accepts. Closes his eyes. Sees her. Opens his eyes. Sees her. He wishes she could understand. He doesn't love her. Doesn't want to love her. Why can't she see? "Cameron I don't love you" The words spill so easily from his lips. They vibrate together and make him want to rub them with his hand to stop the ticklish feeling. Childish. He wonders why she does it. He unbuckles his jeans and pulls them down to his ankles. They wont go over his trainers so he takes them off too. Looks at his thighs. Compares them. The ugliness of deformed tissue. Embedded. He wants to throw up. He decides he hates his leg. Did he always hate his leg? He liked it when there was no pain. He would give anything to never feel the pain. He goes into the bedroom and lies on the bed. Half dressed. Half asleep. Half him. "I don't love you". Easy. "We can never be together". Simple. Does she want him to take her in his arms in a Hollywood embrace and kiss her? Does she want him to throw his cane aside, pick her up in his strong muscular arms and carry her to the bedroom? Make love too her upon freshly pressed white sheets? Fall asleep in his arms? He feels his biceps. Not much there. Certainly stronger on one side from the cane using. Wonderful. The amazing lopsided man. One strong leg, one strong arm. He is lopsided. Unfeeling for people. Feeling everything for people. Needs to save them. Why? To save himself? He is tired. Takes a Vicodin. He is an addict. Wilson wants to save him. He sometimes wonders if Wilson wants to fuck him. He sometimes wonders if he wants to fuck Wilson. The answer is usually no. If he did fuck Wilson would he be less appealing to Cameron? She would probably want to join in. Enough pain for her there. He usually hates the word fuck. If he wants to annoy someone he will use it. It scares them off. His eyes are hazy. My eyes are hazy. He is a vicodin philosopher. It helps him work out the meaning of life. He usually falls asleep before he gets the big answer.

The meaning of life.

Pain.


End file.
